Dubiety
by RedandLizzie
Summary: Takes place after S1E22, Berlin: Conclusion. Red and Liz are working together in the search for Berlin. [Lizzington]
1. Chapter 1

**Dubiety** (the state or quality of being doubtful; uncertainty)

**Summary:** Liz puts to rest the paternity issue.

**Notes: **I began this story two days after the finale aired but struggled with my muse for awhile. The Hiatus Wish forced me to pick it back up again for which I'm thankful. This is for my fellow Lizzington Shippers. Feedback is appreciated.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own The Blacklist or any of these wonderful characters. The brilliant Jon Bokenkamp and NBC do. This is a transformative work and no money is being made from this story.

* * *

Liz had been sharing a roof with Red for nearly three months and the majority of that time had been spent in search of Berlin with a few diversions here and there while they, along with assistance from the task force, brought down three individuals on Red's list.

What had surprised her most about living with Red was his willingness to share his regular business operations, which he worked to maintain on a near daily basis. Red by no means revealed his secrets; however, he was open to providing a great deal of information about his contacts, about the underbelly of the criminal world, and about why he chose to behave a certain way in each situation that presented itself.

She had always known the man was brilliant, connected, and smooth, but until she spent most of every day with him, she had no idea how many balls he kept in the air at once. Liz truly found him a marvel to behold, and despite the intense anger that flashed through her consciousness every time she thought of Sam's death, the strength of the draw she felt coming from Red pulled her ever closer with each passing week.

Her most relaxed and content moments over the past couple of months were when she found herself sitting quietly with him, in whatever location they happened to occupy, doing nothing but the most mundane and least productive things - reading, listening to music, sipping wine.

During these times, Liz would find herself watching him directly or from the corner of her eye, studying his face in attempt to discern the subtle changes in his expression. The first few weeks, she always looked away the second he would turn or look in her direction. As of late, she had begun to hold his eyes for a few seconds, sometimes giving him the slightest upturn of her lips. The first few times she did this, she noticed his surprise - a gentle quirk of his mouth, and then the change in his green eyes - growing soft and inviting. There was something about the man and his feelings for her that she could no longer deny, and she no longer believed it could be written off as some sort of obsession.

Liz often thought of the day he had told her that nothing was worse than losing her, before kneeling and recounting his story of the sea gypsy and how he felt at that moment. Then, during the most odd times, she would recall that nearly despondent expression that had set upon his face after she had given him a headshake indicating she would not be joining him in his search for Berlin. Though she tried to pretend for weeks that Red himself had nothing to do with her choice to join him, she decided to face the writing on the wall a month ago. What Liz could still not wrap her brain around was why he felt the way he did. She then decided to take action and eliminate or confirm the probable conclusion she had reached months ago. A possibility that made her feel more awkward with each passing day as her feelings for him continued to evolve and grow.

One morning after Red had flown out with Dembe, she located hair samples from his bedroom pillow and ran two different home paternity tests as well as a much more detailed test from an expensive and reputable local lab. When the rapid tests came back with the same result, she found herself momentarily bewildered at the range of emotion that coursed through her body; and when the results from the lab arrived a week later, she looked at her reflection in her bedroom mirror to see the slight upturn of her lips.

That evening when she and Red sat at opposite ends of the same narrow couch, Liz pulled out the envelope she had tucked away in her book and handed it to him. Red sat down his glass of scotch and then the folder he was thumbing through. His eyebrow quirked before he asked, "What's this, Lizzie?"

"Open it."

As he pulled out the test results from the lab, his eyes met hers and Liz turned to face him, leaning against the plush armrest of the sofa. She was unsure how he would react and tried to comfort herself by crossing her arms in front of her body.

Liz watched his eyes scan the paperwork before he returned the document to the envelope and sat it on the coffee table in front of him. His expression was schooled but his eyes belied the irritation she knew he felt. She continued to watch him and waited for a verbal response. When he picked up his glass and emptied the contents in a single swallow before reaching for the folder to resume his reading, she spoke. "You're not my father. Or my uncle. Not a brother. Not even a very distant cousin."

Red clicked his tongue and set his mouth before turning his head to meet her eyes. Liz then did something she had never considered until she began to move across the couch toward him. Her approach was slow, hesitant, but her eyes never waived from his. When she reached the cushion he was sitting on, she twisted her body to face him, knees pressing into the back of the couch, before crossing his body with her torso and circling his upper back and neck with her arms. After she was comfortable she placed her face in the crook of his neck.

When he didn't move, didn't touch her in return, she felt tears forming and whispered against his skin, "I had to be sure because so much doesn't make sense and if it had been true, I could at least wrap one question up in this neat little package." She pulled herself tighter against him and said, "I needed something easy."

As he turned his head slightly toward her and she felt his hand at her back, his palm pressing into the arch of her spine, she sighed in relief and said, "But don't think I'm upset with this result. I'm not. Because this is the answer I wanted." Liz paused and scratched through the short hair on the back of his head with a nail. "Despite everything, you make me feel safe. And you make me feel... like I actually mean something to someone without... " She let the words trail off not sure what she was trying to convey, not sure she wanted to freely give him that much insight.

She felt his body relax and Liz molded herself further into his frame when his second arm circled her. She inhaled deeply, breathing him in - the hint of cigar, the remnants of the aftershave he had applied early that morning, Red himself.

They stayed that way as the seconds beat on and Liz closed her eyes feeling the draw of sleep in the comfort of his arms and warmth of his body. She blinked hard and saw it then, the small scar on his neck - the one she had given him - and leaned in placing her lips over the barely noticeable off-white patch. She felt rather than heard his inhale, and when she pressed the tip of her tongue against his flesh, his grip on her torso tightened before he took hold of her biceps moving her away, his voice low, nearly a rumble, sounding like a warning, "Lizzie."

She met his penetrating gaze, embarrassed at his obvious rejection, and she moved back quickly trying her best to hide the blush that heated her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I... " Liz stood and picked up her book, turning away from him and saying, "It's late. I'm going to turn in."

After exiting the den and beginning to climb the stairs leading to her bedroom, she shook her head and hugged herself, not quite sure how she would face him in the morning.

* * *

Liz slept soundly despite the anxiety she felt over her display of affection, and climbed out of bed at the crack of dawn to go for a run. After dressing, she carried her running shoes in one hand as she tried to move quietly down the creaking wood steps. Once she reached the foyer, she squatted and put on her shoes. As she finished with the laces of the second sneaker, she felt a hand grip her shoulder and jerked her head around to see Red. She immediately recognized his clothing and knew he hadn't made it to bed. When she first began staying with him, she saw him this way somewhat frequently, exhausted and a tad rumpled, but as the weeks wore on, she saw this Red rarely. Dembe had told her around a month ago that her presence appeared to have a calming effect on him - that he slept more now than in the entire time Dembe had known him.

She gave him a shy grin and said, "You startled me," before stepping out of his reach as she rose to a standing position. "I'm just going for a run. Before breakfast."

When he took a step toward her, Liz stood firm despite wanting to reach for the handle of the front door. As he moved closer, she smelled the strong drink on his body and fought to keep from wrinkling her nose, wondering if her advance last night was behind his current state. When his hand reached out and began to smooth the hair of her ponytail, she closed her eyes and sighed. She waited for his reproach about her kiss, but when no words came she looked at him once again.

As his face came into focus, he spoke - his words slow and rough, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy, "I'm going to bed. I've spoken with Dembe and he will be taking you to the meeting with Kirkpatrick at 11:00 and then to the bank at 3:30. I trust you to handle things today. We'll leave for Boston the day after tomorrow. Please remind Dembe to check on the flight plan. Have a good day, Lizzie."

When he dropped his hand, she nodded at him, and as he turned she said, "What do you want for dinner? Dembe and I can stop by that Greek place just down from the bank. The one that sells those jars of stuffed olives you like so much."

His warm smirk made her smile and the lightness in the tone of his response soothed the remaining tension she felt, "That would be delightful. Thank you."

As he began to climb the stairs with heavy feet, she felt the burn of tears at his attempt to ease the discomfort he knew she felt. Just before he disappeared, she called after him, "Sleep well, Red."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Dubiety - Chapter 2**

**Summary:** Lunch. Undercover.

**Notes: **I know updates to my stories (this one, Fight, Means, etc.) are a long time coming. Oh that thing called muse. I'm trying. I promise. As always comments are appreciated.

* * *

The events of the next day and a half went per usual, and the flight to Boston was uneventful allowing Liz to nap through most of the short trip. She was hoping Red's contact, an investment banker with strong international ties, would be able to help trace funds tied to Berlin.

As Dembe pulled up in front of the restaurant where they were to meet the banker, Red turned to Liz and spoke, "Gloria and I were involved a couple of years ago."

Liz huffed out a breath wondering why Red was telling her this before saying, "Does that mean you would rather I not go in?" She looked past his shoulder and out the car window before continuing, "That's fine. Or I can sit with Dembe."

"No, that's not what I..."

As his words trailed off, she met his eyes and studied his furrowed brow before shaking her head. Liz felt confused as Red has always appeared quite proud of his sexual conquests in the past.

"Gloria can be, let's say, very open with her personal life. I didn't want you walking in with blinders on."

Something in his eyes changed and Liz watched him, trying her best to read between the lines. There was something there, something new, and she wasn't sure what to make of the dip in his voice and the way he looked at her. She considered a sarcastic reply and even opened her mouth to do so, but changed her mind at the last second and simply said, "I can't pull off being your money handler with someone who has this level of expertise so who am I today?"

Red tilted his head then flattened out his expression, the old mask she had seen so many times returning before he smirked and said, "How about my girlfriend from Ann Arbor?"

They stared at each other as the seconds beat on, and Liz recalled flashes of that long ago evening in Montreal before remembering what if had felt like to be in his arms two days earlier. She struggled with her response, unsure why he was making this suggestion after pushing her away.

When Dembe softly knocked on Red's window, she broke eye contact and dropped her gaze to Red's hand which held his fedora before speaking, "I know nothing about Ann Arbor so let's go with Baltimore."

As Dembe opened the door she felt the rush of hot humid air and looked back up at Red avoiding his eyes. She immediately noticed the change in the alignment of his jaw and looked past him at the bright orange awning covering the entrance to the restaurant. She caught sight of Dembe handing off the key to the valet before refocusing on Red who sat motionless. Liz could feel his stare but she kept her eyes forward. He then moved, climbing out of the car before stopping just outside the door and offering his hand. Liz took a deep breath before sliding across the leather and firmly grasping his fingers as he helped her up and out. She felt his eyes on her again and glanced up at him before releasing his hand and taking hold of his elbow.

As he stepped, she immediately felt the adjustment in his stride; he was slowing to match her pace and just before Dembe opened the restaurant door, she felt his free hand cover hers - his touch was warm and slight. As they crossed the threshold, they were greeted by the matire d' who smiled enthusiastically before speaking in a rich Bostonian accent, "Mr. Gibbons, so wonderful to see you again, sir. It's been quite a awhile. We have your table ready and a bottle of our finest champagne has been provided on the house. I'm afraid Ms. Connell has not arrived yet."

Red became his exuberant self and replied, "Very good, Arthur. We all know how Gloria likes to make an entrance and I'm sure she'll be around within the half-hour."

As the maitre d' crossed the restaurant taking them to a rounded booth with a clear view of the establishment, Liz felt a tingle grow in her stomach. Red's continued touch set her nerve ending on alert and she wasn't quite sure what she should do to be successful in her role as his girlfriend. Though he had mentioned women on a number of occasions, Liz had never seen him interact with anyone other than Madeline Pratt, and Liz wasn't sure what kind of behavior and physical contact was typical for him when he intimately knew someone.

To change her thoughts for the moment, she focused on Dembe who moved to sit at the small table next to their own, and watched as he moved his chair against the wall to give him a bird's eye view of the front door and kitchen entrance. When the bodyguard briefly met her eyes and gave her an impish grin, Liz automatically smiled back before she realized Dembe was smirking at the two of them.

Once they reached the edge of the booth, she released Red's arm and scooted in to the first place setting refusing to allow herself to be placed next to a woman she had not met. Yet again, she felt Red's gaze before he stepped to the opposite end of the booth, sliding across to the middle seat. He sat at what she considered a perfectly appropriate distance but the moment he was settled, she felt the slide of his arm across the top of the seat.

Within seconds their waiter appeared and poured the champagne while announcing the day's specials. Red politely but quickly dismissed the man saying they would wait for their guest before ordering. When Liz felt the brush of Red's fingers in her hair then against the nape of her neck, she blinked hard before taking a long sip of her champagne. Though she thought the touch appropriate for the cover - conveying an intimacy but not crossing any boundaries, she did not find it guileless, and the way his touch made her feel was far from innocent. As his hand found and then set to work on the hard knot at the top of her shoulder, she found herself wondering for what had to be the hundredth time what type of lover he would be - specifically, how he would be with her.

Liz did her best to appear unaffected before turning her head and meeting his gaze. His eyes danced back and forth between hers for a moment before she surprised herself by shimming closer until their thighs nearly touched from hip to knee. He was toying with her and she was quite happy with herself for succeeding in removing his hand from her neck, but instantly missed the warmth and pressure of his fingers. She then removed her napkin from the table and spread it across her lap before resting her hand on his mid thigh.

She felt his torso tense for the briefest of seconds and gave herself a silent chant of gratification before he tipped the dance back in his favor by placing his mouth at her ear and whispering, "How's the champagne?" The timber of his voice was different - deeper than she could recall hearing before and she fought hard to suppress a shiver.

Liz turned her head so that their lips were a hair's breadth apart and replied, "A little too dry but perfectly sweet."

She felt his exhale enter her slightly parted mouth before she met his eyes. She watched as his eyes grew darker and felt herself squeezing his thigh before licking her lips. The moment he moved slightly back in what she assumed was an attempt to see her more clearly, her gaze dropped to his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her and craved the contact with an intensity she had only known once before.

Liz waited, inhaling the light wood notes of his aftershave; seconds later, when he made no motion to close the distance between them, her eyes bounced back to his. She knew he had to see the desire she felt as her heart raced and her breathing became more rapid.

She focused on his long eyelashes for a moment before she heard her own voice, sounding foreign - lust filled but tinged with fear, "Red." As he brought his free hand up and placed it at the front of her neck she swallowed against the calluses of his fingers and palm.

The very moment she began to tilt her head and lean forward, a somewhat loud and shrill, "Reddington!" made her pause, and she turned to see a tall buxom short haired blonde approach on near teetering heels.

Liz moved her eyes back to Red and found him smirking at her. As he lowered his hand, she felt his fingers skim under her shirt and along her clavicle before he leaned in and placed his lips at her ear whispering, "Don't hold her against me, Lizzie. Please don't hold any of them against me. They meant nothing at the time and are most assuredly worth less than that now."

In one swift genteel movement Red rose from the booth, and Liz watched as he placed a kiss on each of Gloria's heavy bronzer-covered cheeks. The blonde towered above him in her very expensive skirted business suit and Liz felt a pang of jealousy as the woman traced her long pink fingernails along the back of Red's shirt collar before bringing him nearly flush against her body.

When Gloria stepped back after holding on to Red for what Liz felt far too long, the blonde looked down at her, passing her eyes over what she could see of Liz's frame, stopping for a good three count at Liz's chest before returning her brown eyes to Liz's face. "So, who do we have here?"

Red spoke as he slid back into the booth next to Liz, his arm returning to its earlier spot along the top of the booth, "Gloria, I would like you to meet Beth. Beth, Gloria Connell."

Liz didn't even attempt to paste what she knew would be a false smile across her face and nodded at the tall woman. Gloria studied her again and Liz felt anger stir as she watched the blonde make yet another assessment of Liz's obvious lack of curves in comparison to her own manufactured ones. As the blonde's evaluation continued, Liz wished she had chosen different attire - something not as simple as the black dress pants, red blouse, and black jacket.

"Beth, is it?"

Liz removed her hands from the table edge and placed them in her lap before she spoke, "Yes." She knew she was letting this woman get to her and wasn't sure why. After a moment of reflection, Liz figured out the source of her discomfort - Gloria was a taller, slightly older, and even more beautiful version of her dead husband's lover, Gina Zanetakos.

After Gloria sat, she began sliding one of her perfectly manicured nails across the top of her water glass and looked at Red. "Do tell, where did you meet such a sweet girl?"

Before Red had even opened his mouth to respond, Liz answered, "Raymond was actually shackled to a chair when we met, and I must say it's been an adventure ever since."

The disbelief on Gloria's face made Liz smile smugly and Liz crossed her legs under the table in anticipation of a battle. She then caught Red's gaze in her direction as well as the slight part of his lips and wondered if she had surprised him by using his given name for the first time or if it was the reference to their first meeting.

When Gloria spoke her voice was haughty and Liz watched as the woman adjusted her posture to put her ample cleavage on full display, "Hmm. Interesting words coming from someone so demure. But perhaps that's your allure. Do tell, Raymond, what is it you find most attractive about your date?"

Liz saw Red turn toward her out of the corner of her eye and realized she had made a mistake. She was pulling the woman into a conflict which would not serve well in obtaining information. Her agreement to pretend to be Red's girlfriend in this situation had been foolish considering her ever expanding and conflicting feelings. Liz wanted nothing more than to leave, to pick up her purse and join Dembe at his small table, or better yet, to walk right out the door and spend the rest of the time in the Mercedes.

When Liz's cell rang, she said a silent prayer of gratitude, immediately opened her purse, and answered. She had never been more thankful to hear Aram's voice. The tech, along with Red's people, had been working on locating the source of an IP address tied to the man who had pretended to be Berlin. When Aram said he had the physical address of the IP, beginning to rattle off all sorts of details as to how he finally traced the info, Liz diverted her attention to Red and Gloria's conversation.

As Liz heard the blonde's loud high-spirited laugh then, "I can't imagine she lets you tie her up," Liz rose from the booth.

After coming to a standing position, she spoke into the phone interrupting Aram, "I'm at a restaurant and will have to call you right back." She then hit end and turned to Red before saying, "I'm afraid this is going to take awhile. Please, enjoy lunch."

The moment Red leaned forward in her direction and began to reach for her, Liz turned and walked to Dembe speaking in a quiet voice, "That was Aram. He has some information. Would you please give me the extra key to the car so I can speak with him in private?" Dembe nodded, and as he was fishing the key out of his pocket, she heard Gloria state loudly and what was clearly for Liz's benefit, "I've added quite a few items to my play room, some of them specifically with you in mind. Several new pieces of leather that I'm sure you would appreciate."

Liz walked slowly to the exit and took a deep breath once she was outside. The valet quickly directed her to the Mercedes and Liz made quick work of phoning Aram and obtaining the necessary details. The heat in the parked car proved stifling and then Liz remembered passing a coffee shop a half a block away and began walking in that direction. Once there, she was delighted to discover they served a spinach quiche which tasted delicious along with her hot tea.

Just as she had decided it best to head back, her cell rang. The clip in Red's voice when he responded to her greeting annoyed her, "Where are you?"

"Just down the street at a coffee shop. We passed it on the way to the restaurant."

When the call went dead, Liz sighed. They had been getting along very well for weeks and now she was afraid their interaction would become uncomfortable after the events of the last couple of days. She remembered the gnawing anxiety she had felt those last months with Tom and didn't want to ever feel that uncomfortable again.

The second Dembe pulled up, Liz climbed into the vehicle and began speaking to Red, "Aram called. He has the physical address of the ISP. It's in Philadelphia."

"I've had the address since this morning, Lizzie. Botriz called when you were asleep on the plane."

"Oh."

Liz looked at his face for the first time and noticed the lip stain at the corner of his mouth. She did her best not to feel indignant but failed at suppressing the emotion. After staring at his lips for a number of seconds with Red watching her just as closely, she opened her purse and handed him a tissue. "There's lipstick on your mouth - at the corner."

She then leaned into the plush back of the leather seat and looked forward when Red began wiping at his mouth. An ache enveloped her as she looked out her side window, imagining Gloria being very purposeful in leaving evidence of her shared kiss with Red.

A short time later, Dembe pulled up to the Regency Hyatt, and Liz turned to Red asking, "We aren't going on to Philadelphia?"

"I'm having the house watched. We'll see what comes from the surveillance."

Liz frowned not understanding why Red wouldn't want to immediately jump on this lead.

"Red, shouldn't we - what if he's there and - "

Red cut her off, "What if he's not, but will be? This, we wait on."

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
